


Déjà vu

by awardwinningstrawberryscones



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: A little bit of time travel fun, F/M, Jamie goes through the stones, One Shot, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22911079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awardwinningstrawberryscones/pseuds/awardwinningstrawberryscones
Summary: A man is hit by a car. Claire is working in the emergency department. Paths cross, things come  to light, and someone has no idea what the other is talking about.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 26
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small bit of a story, inspired by a writing prompt. If I feel inspired I might continue it, though I feel it's already been done, and far better. This is also my first every piece of Outlander fiction, and the first bit of writing I've done in a while. I am a bit rusty, so please excuse any errors or...well I'm sorry if it's awful. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

The doors to the emergency room flew open, loud voices accompanied two stretchers adorned with injured bodies as they filled the small waiting area in front of the receptionist’s desk. It was a car crash. Or rather, a pedestrian was hit crossing the street. A careless driver had slammed into a large man at around 40 miles per hour. Thankfully the man was awake, talking - or rather, groaning and swearing in a language no one listening was sure they fully understood. The paramedics had his right arm in a sling, and his jeans had been cut off in the ambulance for fear that his leg was severely injured. The leg injury happened to be relatively minor, as was the bruising on his face, caused by his fall to the asphalt. His shoulder, however, was hanging loosely from its socket, awkward and clearly painful, judging by the patient’s grimace - it was obviously dislocated. 

Doctor Claire Beachamp was on call, and as she was alerted to the emergency coming in, she rushed through to the man on the stretcher, asking the paramedics who had brought him in about his status. She was relieved to see the man sitting up, clearly not seriously injured. His flaming red hair was askew, grease and dirt mingling with the auburn strands. She could see bits of gravel embedded in his cheek, and steered her newest patient to an examination room. 

Closing the door on the continuing chaos outside, she had the nurse fetch some tweezers, so she could get to work cleaning the wounds in the man’s face. 

“This’ll hurt just a bit, and I’ve ordered some ibuprofen for the pain,” she explained as she put a hand on the man’s large chest and eased down into a supine position. 

He didn’t do much but nod slightly, and she went to work, clasping each small bit of asphalt and pulling it gently from his ruddy cheek. She noticed his blue eyes, gazing at her from the side as she bent over him. She paused momentarily, wondering if she’d seen this man before.

“What’s your name, sir?” she asked, while wiping his face with a piece of gauze.

“Jami - James Fraser...ma’am,” he mumbled, giving a smile that reached his eyes. His thick Scottish accent was obvious, and Claire briefly wondered why he was in London...getting hit by cars.

“Well, James Fraser, you’ll be out of here in no time. I’ll fix up your shoulder and bandage your leg. It could’ve been a lot worse,” Claire stated, as she eased his arm out of the sling. 

“Shoulder’s dislocated, I’ll have to force it back. It’ll hurt, you know,” she said, as she watched him smile again. This time, looking at him straight on, she got a strange feeling. She paused for a moment under the pretense of checking his leg, which had a large, but superficial, scrape along the outside of his right knee. She’d have the nurse wash the wound and dress it, she thought, trying to shake off the odd feeling. 

Claire took the man’s arm and held it just so, gently maneuvering it back into the shoulder joint. He didn’t make a sound, though she knew it was painful. He was breathing hard, and she could feel his pulse racing just beneath his thumb as she held his wrist. 

“That’s it now. Hold still and I’ll put the sling back on. Don’t use that arm any more than you have to, understand? It’ll be swollen and bruised for a bit.” 

Mr. Fraser smiled again, but merely nodded.

“Aye, I know. I’ve done this before.”

“Gotten hit by a car?”

“No….injured my arm in just this way…” 

“Oh...that’s funny,” Claire pressed her fingers to her mouth, thinking, trying to remember why this all felt so….familiar. “I could swear to you that I’ve done this exact thing to you...but I couldn’t have possibly done so. Funny how déjà vu works.” She gave a small chuckle but paused again, as she watched James Fraser’s grin spread up to his eyes. 

“I’ve found you, my sassenach. You’re right - the stones, tis not a pleasant trip.” 

Claire looked at him, wide-eyed, unable to make sense of what this James Fraser was talking about. 

Stones? A trip? Had he hit his head?

He continued talking before she could make sense of anything.

“I dinna see what hit me, but it was painful. Was worth it to see your face again.” 

Just then, a nurse entered with some ibuprofen for the patient, but topped when she saw the look on Claire’s face.

“Take care of him, Laura, I’ll...I’ll be back.”

She didn’t know what to do, except leave. So she did. Déjà vu was one thing - but this man was all too familiar, but she was sure she’d never seen him before. With an uneasy feeling that followed her for the rest of her shift, she steered clear of his room, asking another doctor to step in and make sure he was taken care of, and then discharged. 

She managed to keep herself busy, and didn’t think of it all again until she got home. 

Brianna was waiting for her, as always, eager to tell her about her day at school. At eight years old, she was bright-eyed and curious, always wanting to hear about Claire’s day at the hospital as well. 

Claire greeted her daughter with a hug, asked briefly about Frank’s whereabouts, and then sat on the sofa with Brianna, coming her hands through that bright red hair as the little girl regaled her with tales of the lunch room and the playground.

She paused, gazing at her daughter, and it hit her. That same red hair, and even those blue eyes. 

She knew James Fraser. _Well_.


	2. Photos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is on the hunt for family photos, but can't find what she's looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I appreciate the response to the first chapter of this little baby I'm giving birth to unexpectedly. I have been blown away by the comments left - thank you so much. You all have no idea what that's done to my confidence! I'm open to suggestions and to criticism, so please let me have it.
> 
> I actually have an entire story mapped out, so I hope to update once a week or so (depending on how life treats me!) Here's the second chapter. It's not much, but I'm setting some stuff up here. And, sorry, No Jamie. (He's coming, I promise!) 
> 
> ****************************

Waking, drenched in sweat, she looked over at Frank, his twin bed empty - he'd left for work already. She was thankful to be alone, and decided to revel in the dream a little more. She closed her eyes, seeing clearly again the images.

Hands, roaming her body, the warmth of a man's breath against her neck. An insatiable need for him, whoever it was. Her breathing had been heavy, and the pull down below the covers, something she hadn't experienced in - she wasn't sure how long it had been. Claire ran her hands over her breasts and sighed as the pleasure built again. Her hands traveled farther down, where she lightly touched herself - it didn't take much to undo her again. She shook, closing her eyes as the orgasm left her limp and sated. Eventually, she rolled to her side, and hoped sleep would come again, and perhaps one of those dreams. 

Instead, Brianna knocked. 

"Mom? Mommy, are you awake?"

Claire gathered herself and pulled back the bed covers, ready to get up.

"Yes, dearest - I'm up," she greeted her daughter, rubbing a hand over the child's head as they walked together to the kitchen.

"Now...what would you like this morning? Banana? Toast?" Claire rummaged through the cupoards for the bread she knew was there, while Brianna took a seat at the small table. 

"Both, please," she responded, as Claire nodded and began to fix them both toast and bananas for breakfast. 

"I have a school project due at the end of the week," Brianna said casually.

"Oh? What kind of project? Something fun, I hope." 

Claire placed the plates on the table and sat next to her daughter, smiling as she waited to hear more.

"Um, well, we have to bring in photos about us...about our life. The teacher calls it Life History. Do we have some photos I can take in?"

"I'm sure we do. I'm off today - I'll look for some while you're at school."

"Thanks, Mom," Brianna replied, munching on her buttered toast. "See if you can find some with me and you, when I was a baby. I want to go from beginning to end."

"That sounds good. Now, if you're finished eating, you better go get dressed - we'll leave for school soon, Love." 

Claire finished eating, and got dressed herself. Relieved to be off work while she had the house to herself, she was looking forward to finding those photos, and sitting down with a good book - something she hadn't done in a while.

On the way to school, Claire found her mind wandering back to the hospital, to her duties there, and finally, back to the one place she'd been avoiding the last two days. She did her best to forget the entire encounter with James Fraser. She went about her work, happy to be busy, and did her best to ignore that nagging thought that she needed to see him again. Walking to the bus stop on the way to work, she'd find herself searching in the crowd for him. She would gaze out the window of the bus, hoping to catch a glimpse, but she had no luck. She wondered for a time if it had all been a figment of her imagination. 

The things he said; the way he looked at her; the way she felt afterwards - like she'd been struck by lightening. It was unnerving, and she wanted answers. 

Now, with Brianna holding her hand, Claire again scoured the crowd for any sign of his red hair. She was surprised when she found herself disappointed after dropping Brianna at school and catching no glimpse of her mysterious stranger.

****----****----****

In the storage closet, Claire pulled out several old shoe boxes full of photos, and carried them to the coffee table in the living room, along with a stack of three photo albums. All full of photos capturing Brianna's entire childhood, she was sure she'd have the Family History photo project done in no time. She leafed through photos, picking out shots of Brianna and Frank fishing. There were several with the family dog, and one at Christmas she set aside. Brianna's third birthday was accounted for with a photo of a stuffed clown Brianna had specifically asked for. Claire had a stack of ten or so photos when she reached Brianna's babyhood. There were photos of Claire holding Brianna in their kitchen, and of the two of them out in the back garden. She was unsure whether to send these in - her brown curly hair was all askew , and she was clearly sleep deprived with leaky breasts to boot. 

Oh, well Brianna, she thought. It's for you. Have them.

She continued digging, wanting to find one of Brianna in the hospital. Claire had no memory of this, herself - a fact that always saddened her. According to Frank, she'd been put under due to distress and didn't recall much of anything until after she and the baby had been brought home. She thought, however, that surely Frank had taken at least one photo of mom and daughter together in the hospital. 

She searched through all the boxes, and flipped through the albums one more time - but came up empty handed. 

Perhaps Frank had some in his office. She decided to ask him.


End file.
